


Old Habits

by HappinessIsBlau



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 14:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8450341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappinessIsBlau/pseuds/HappinessIsBlau
Summary: Every scar that Jason had was important.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Do you ever want to read a fic with a very specific plot but you go looking and that fic doesn't exist? That's why this fic exists. 
> 
> **PLEASE HEED THE ABOVE SELF-HARM WARNINGS. THIS FIC CONTAINS SELF-HARM. DO NOT READ THIS IF IT DESCRIPTIONS OF SELF-HARM AND REFERENCED CHILD SEXUAL ABUSE IS TROUBLING FOR YOU.**

Every scar that Jason had was important. When he was five, he scraped up his knees something fierce when he was playing outside with one of his neighbors. When he was 9, he fell out of a tree, broke his arm, and had a nice scar where the bone poked out of his skin (and of course, he bragged about it). When he was 14, he got grazed by a bullet on his left side and he had the scar along his ribs to prove it. And so forth. 

Once he took a dip in the Lazarus Pit, those scars disappeared. The cut under his eye from a particularly nasty fight with the Riddler. His crooked toe from breaking it the summer he was 8 and playing soccer. The broken molar that had been fixed but was never quite right was now a perfectly perfect adult tooth. Even his fillings were fixed. 

Jason remembered every one of his scars. How could he possibly forget the claw marks across his back and the cigarette burn on his left hip from particularly enthusiastic people whose payment for services rendered allowed him to eat after his mom died, or the lines he put along his upper arms because they were easier to hide than his wrists? Alfred and Bruce had seen them and considered them remnants of a hard life lived before they were apart of it. 

Some may call it a blank slate to have history like that washed away, but those scars all meant something important. Old habits die hard, especially when one is under insurmountable stress. 

Every single fuckup he made was detrimental. A tally had to be kept, and Jason’s upper arm was as fine of a scoreboard as any. 

Sure, he was punishing himself. It was way more than that, though. It was the release of frustrations, a permanent record of events, and a comforting old habit that was like coming home again.


End file.
